


The One That Got Away

by writeskatelive



Category: Figure Skating - Fandom, virtue moir
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 15:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19065268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeskatelive/pseuds/writeskatelive
Summary: A little fun fanfic about Tessa and Scott - completely fake and inspired by a prompt from my friend. Don’t take it too seriously!





	The One That Got Away

Scott slumped down further on the couch. The buzzing in his head had escalated to a heavy-metal band in his temples, and his belly was sloshing from all the cheese fries and liquor. He had thrown up twice already, but he still felt seasick.

Tracey – or was it Stacey – had fallen asleep hours ago. He'd left for two seconds to get some more beer and the little wench had the nerve to pass out on the couch before he'd gotten what he wanted from her. It was expensive, getting them tipsy enough to go home with him, but it was cheaper than paying them in advance, and curves like hers didn't come cheap.

He groaned, a deep, distant sound to his sloshing head. He needed something strong and wild to block out what had happened earlier that day, and now since Strong and Wild had turned into Sleeping Beauty, he had nothing but his thoughts.

His phone was still lying against the wall where he'd thrown it. Scott lurched to his feet, nearly knocking Tracey/Stacey off the couch, and picked it off the ground. His body complained as he straightened - he had put on some weight since he quit skating, and his joints knew it.

The case was cracked, but the screen still lit up when he pressed the power button.

And there she was. As radiant as ever. Strong and beautiful. Luscious chocolate-brown hair swept back into loose curls. Green eyes, deep as a sky, adoring and stunning. Perfectly shaped lips, red as his own throbbing blood. Creamy skin he longed to feel against his own again. A flawless body in a skintight white dress.

On her arm, a distinguished-looking older man in a tuxedo.

He couldn't help scrolling through the article again, as if rereading it would make it change. "Fashion mogul Tessa Virtue, 42, married millionaire software designer Walter Perrot, 64, this morning at the Montreal Cathedral. She was accompanied by her 10-year-old daughter Josephine and her 4-year-old son Brighton, while Perrot was accompanied by his 26-year-old son Christopher. The couple will reside in Perrot's vast estate outside Montreal."

Scott's hand curled into a fist just looking at the picture of the old man. What could this guy give Tessa that Scott couldn't? Besides the whole estate and all-the-money-in-the-world part.

There had been a time where he'd thought everything was possible, that one day he'd wake up with her lying beside him, instead of a drunken stripper.

That had been a long time ago.

Because two years after they'd won the Olympics together, Tessa had met an old man named Giuseppe Lambertenghi, who carried her off to his mansion in Rome and gave her everything her heart could desire.

She never spoke to Scott again.

His head ached, and it wasn't from the drinking. He still remembered that day when, after denying it for years, he'd finally told her how he felt. And he could never forget how she'd laughed.

"Of course I love you, Scott," she'd said. "You've been just like a brother through all this."

It had been thirteen years since they had retired from skating. Thirteen years since he'd had a real conversation with her. Thirteen years since he was allowed to touch her as part of his job.

He needed another drink.

 

Tessa sat up in bed and glanced over at Walter, still snoring like a saw. Out of the three wedding nights she'd had, this one was by far the worst.

Rule number one: Never invite skaters to a wedding.

First of all, the Pojes came. Tessa still couldn't understand how Kaitlyn was six months pregnant and barely showing. It was her third pregnancy, and she still had a waist like a bee.

Andrew looked hot, which was no surprise. His hair had taken on a touch of silver now, but it only added to his charm, and that annoyed her, because she knew he would always be handsomer than her current husband.

And she couldn't even handle seeing those adorable children, Willow and Juniper, with their gangly little legs, sleek black hair, and sparkling hazel eyes as they asked their parents about what marriage was supposed to be.

Then there was Meagan, always the snitch, who spent the whole dinner whispering to Kaetlyn, Gabby, and Alaine about Tessa's previous marriages.

But the worst part was when Piper had too much champagne and started talking about that time Tessa and Paul Poirier had...well, thank God Marie-France had called for another toast before Piper leaked anything else. But really, who would believe her? When sober, Piper was a hippie trying to be a Hollywood star, and when drunk, she was simply a clown.

Eric, for his part, had played some excellent music. But Tessa had the crawling feeling that everyone was whispering behind their hands and making bets about how long this marriage would last while the sweet sound of "Your Song" came from the piano.

Chiddy had tried to make a speech, but it sounded as forced as a handshake between diplomats. And every time she saw Chiddy, she couldn't help thinking of Scott.

She hadn't seen that useless son of a gun since she'd married Giuseppe and moved to Rome. And not that she wanted to. Chiddy, who still saw him once in a while, said that Scott was fine. But Tessa knew Chiddy too well, and she could always tell when he was lying.

Of course, it wasn't Tessa's fault that they weren't talking to each other. She HAD invited him to her wedding to Giuseppe, but he'd never shown up. Which was strange, because until then, they'd always been best friends.

She hadn't invited him to the other two weddings. After all, he wouldn't want the inconvenience of traveling to Salt Lake City just for a wedding.

She'd thought she'd had everything with Giuseppe.

One morning, Giuseppe Lambertenghi died in his sleep, aged 74.

She couldn't let all her talent be wasted. So she returned to skating. And one day, she discovered Nathan.

She'd known about him for years – after all, the kid had been doing quads since he could stand up. But he was a decade younger than her, so she'd never paid him much attention. Until she realized how his thick black curls gave him a roguish charm, and his cardiology practice gave him a house in the Hamptons.

The problem with Nathan was, he was just so BUSY. In addition to being a doctor, he was still trying to manage his own skating school, and he even appeared in shows once in a while. In his big, exciting life, there simply was no time for Tessa.

Tessa, on the other hand, had a lot of time.

And she also had Paul Poirier.

She'd always thought Paul was cute, but his screwball approach to everything cooled any sexual tension they'd ever had. Until he did this modeling gig for Calvin Klein, like all sexy Canadians before him, and Tessa stopped to admire the scenery for a minute.

Well, actually, she'd done more than admire.

The minute the baby was born, red-faced and squirming and screaming like a steam engine, Nathan just looked over at Tessa, a question in his eyes. And she'd looked away before the shame could consume her face.

Nathan never mentioned the affair in the divorce papers. He took the Hamptons house and the Jaguar, and she took Josephine and the baby, whose official name was Brighton Maximilian Chen but whose true name was Brighton Maximilian Poirier.

As for the fling with Paul, that didn't work out either. He was great for some midnight loving, but he was better at making puns than money.

So she'd packed up her things and moved back to her little hometown of London, Ontario. She'd bought herself a modest two-bedroom house and learned to cook and clean like a regular housewife.

Until Walter Perrot moved in next door.

A man in his sixties, he was no longer very handsome. He was obsessed with his work, like Nathan, but he lacked even a trace of Nathan's casual charm. He was always glued to his computer, and frankly Tessa would've preferred marrying his twenty-something son.

But Walter was rich and widowed, and that was enough.

Now, sitting up in bed sometime after three-thirty in the morning, she rubbed her forehead and tried to ignore the knots in her stomach that told her she'd just made a huge mistake.

She picked up her phone from the bedside table and started to place a call. After thirteen years, she still remembered his number so easily.

But what did she have to say? It wasn't like they'd just get back together, not when she had just married a millionaire. She had never loved Scott romantically, and she was not about to start now.

Tessa stared at the phone for at least five minutes, her mind spinning. Why had she even started to call in the first place? It seemed more stupid the longer she thought about it. No, she was not going to call up her old partner on her wedding night.

She set the phone on the nightstand, lay down again, and tried to block out the sound of Walter's guttering snores.


End file.
